


Love Is Who We Are

by sandwastesinthevoidofmychest



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Christmas, Don't copy to another site, Foster Care, M/M, Married Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft and Greg are so in love, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Original Teenage Character, POV Alternating, Retired Greg Lestrade, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, original child character - Freeform, parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22441144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest/pseuds/sandwastesinthevoidofmychest
Summary: When Mycroft and Greg's four year old daughter starts questioning the logic of Santa Claus, it's up to the both of them to keep Christmas alive. This year, they have their thirteen year old foster-son Louis to help them.Though, Mycroft and Greg both hope to give Louis a magical Christmas of his own.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade
Comments: 22
Kudos: 106





	Love Is Who We Are

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic in November with the one thought in mind: How would Mycroft & Greg keep Santa alive for their very observant child? From there it evolved into a story of love and family, and there are now two original characters I would lay down my life for.
> 
> I wanted to get this posted by Christmas but it was nowhere near finished. These last two months have been absolute Hell, and I ended up finding comfort in writing this little, precious family. The more comfort I found, the longer it became, so here we are at almost 14k words :') 
> 
> So I hope you all enjoy <3

**Love is who we are, and no season can contain it.**

Greg’s sitting on the floor in front of the fire with Edith by his side when he hears the front door. 

“In the sitting room!” He calls out, Edith glances up at him with wide eyes, temporarily distracted from her jigsaw puzzle. 

“Your brother is home.” He grins, heart warming at the delighted smile that crosses her face. 

“Lou!!!” Her screeching has yet to become bearable, but he watches happily from the floor as Louis walks in and Edith runs towards him to hug him.

Louis, as ever seems surprised by the gesture and Greg can’t help the nudge of sadness that he feels with that knowledge. 

“Hey there, Lou.” Greg grins, taking his time to get to his feet. His newest mantra seems to have become ‘not a young lad anymore’, as his knees increasingly struggle to cooperate. 

If Mycroft is anywhere in hearing distance of this, Greg is gifted with a soft kiss and ‘nonsense’ being whispered into his ear. 

“Hey da-Greg. S-sorry.” 

Greg’s heart aches. Louis has been with them a year next January. 

He and Mycroft had decided to go into fostering after Greg took early retirement following a near fatal gunshot. 

Louis was their third; just turned thirteen, hopelessly awkward, and absolutely perfect. 

Louis has been their longest foster, and increasingly both Greg and Mycroft have been called ‘dad’ in passing. It’s always followed by an awkward apology. 

They’ve both tried to explain that it would be an honour to be called Louis’s fathers, but it mainly meets discomfort and embarrassment. 

They’re working on it. There’s been a lot of therapy in the situation, mainly solely for Louis,but if needed both he and Mycroft are more than willing to sit in on sessions. 

The fact that Edith idolises Louis perhaps makes this all so bittersweet for Louis. They’ve all discussed how Louis is afraid that he’s going to be ‘abandoned’ in some way by them all. 

Mycroft and himself have repeatedly promised and sworn that Louis will not be going anywhere that he does not wish to. But again, they’re working on it. 

Edith had turned four during the summer. Greg and Mycroft had made the decision to use a surrogate. Her fiery ginger curls and her blue eyes remind him so much of his husband. 

She’s just started her first year of primary school and already she’s shining in her teacher’s reports. She shines regardless in both their eyes. As does Louis. 

Mycroft’s working hours are shorter now, essentially nine-to-five, not on call, free weekends. He’s also preparing to take early retirement; Anthea has gradually been gifted more and more responsibilities and she’s handled them effortlessly. Soon enough, she will have taken over all Mycroft’s old duties. 

If someone had tolda just married Gregory Holmes-Lestrade that in two years from the wedding he’d be retiring and him and Mycroft would be fostering, and having their own child Greg would have howled with laughter. But now? Now he’s happier than he’s ever been. 

Greg shakes his head, “Never apologise, Lou.” He goes to Louis’s side and pulls him in for a gentle hug. Edith joins in, and they can’t all help but laugh. 

“Would you like a snack? Tea?” Greg asks, reaching down to pick Edith up. 

Louis manages a smile, brushing away the fringe that he has a tendency to hide behind. “Crackers and Nutella?” He asks hopefully. 

Greg ruffles his hair, “Coming right up!” 

They pass the sitting room’s Christmas tree, lights already on to brighten up the dark evenings. They had all decided that they would decorate it last Sunday. Eventually more decorations are finding their way out of their boxes in Greg’s spare time. There’s something new to look at each day. 

“Teacher said we need to write letters to Santa.” Edith pipes up. 

Greg laughs, Mycroft and himself have been planning. Edith is incredibly observant for her age, but what else did they expect? 

The daughter of an retired copper and Mycroft Holmes? The longer she believes in Santa, the more of a miracle it is. 

She almost caught them last year, sneaking downstairs on Christmas Eve when they thought she was asleep. 

Christmas with Louis this year will be a first. The subject has been broached in his therapy sessions. All Mycroft and Greg know is that Louis has never had a traditional Christmas before. 

It’s another reason that this Christmas will be so important. He may be old enough to know Santa is a fairytale, but Greg and Mycroft are desperate to make it magical all the same. 

They’ve spent nights curled up together discussing the possibilities. Both of them settled easily on one particular idea, the papers came through a few days ago, provisional and pending. They should have the proper forms by Christmas. It will be Louis’s choice after that. 

Greg notices Louis stare down at the table, suddenly quiet. Greg boils the kettle and moves around the kitchen getting Louis his Nutella and crackers. 

“Oh yeah?” He asks conversationally. Unable to hide his smile.

“Yeah! She said the postman brings them to the North Pole.”

Greg hands Louis a plate of crackers, when Louis raises his head, Greg smiles at him and he’s overjoyed to get even a hint of a smile back. 

“And when are we writing our letters to Santa then?” Greg asks as he makes their teas. 

Edith laughs, “Daddy, you and Papa are too old to get Santa presents.” Her voice is so matter of fact that she sounds just like Mycroft. 

Greg acts mock surprised and Louis even laughs. “Excuse you, young lady. Never too old.” 

“You and Papa are.” She replies with conviction. 

“Wait until I tell Papa what you said.” Greg says grinning. He can only imagine Mycroft’s reaction. 

Edith shrugs, “You and Papa always say not to lie.” 

Louis covers his mouth, shoulders shaking with laughter. 

“Right.” Greg says breezily. “Then when are you and Louis writing your letters to Santa?” 

Edith looks to Louis, “When?” She asks expectantly. 

Louis shrugs, glancing warily at Greg, “Tonight?” 

Edith grins, “With Daddy and Papa?” 

Louis nods, “Even though they’re banned from writing their own.” He grins at Greg.

“Exactly.” 

Greg sighs, “Can’t believe I’m not getting a present from Santa this year.” 

* * *

It’s just past six when Mycroft gets home, he bids farewell to his driver and can’t help but smile as he walks up the steps to their front door. The windows are alight and Greg has managed to put up some Christmas lights today. Every day he comes home and there’s something new. 

He’s begun to look forward to trying to figure out what’s new. 

Unlocking the door, he walks in. Sounds are coming from the kitchen. He can hear Edith talking to Greg, can smell tomatoes in the air. 

He can’t help but smile, the fondness and love runs through him. 

He never thought he could have this. A husband, children; a family. 

He doesn’t think he’ll ever quite get over the turns his life has made in the last two decades. Since Greg came into his life, really. 

Mycroft takes off his scarf and hangs up his coat, when he turns around Greg is coming out from the kitchen towards him, face alight with a smile. 

Sometimes Mycroft wonders if he’s dreaming, if he’s in some sort of coma and that one day he’s going to wake and this life will be wrenched away from him. 

But then, there is Gregory. 

“Welcome home, darlin’.” Greg pulls him by the tie into a warm kiss, slow and gentle. Mycroft can’t help wrapping his arms around the man, pulling him into a caress. 

“Gregory.” Mycroft murmurs in the breath he takes before leaning into another kiss. 

“Papa!” Edith’s voice carries from the kitchen and Mycroft rests his forehead against Greg’s. 

“How was your day?” Greg asks, pressing a kiss to the tip of Mycroft’s nose, before taking hold of Mycroft’s hand and guiding him to the kitchen. 

“Satisfactory. Everything went well. And you, my love?” 

Warmth spreads through Mycroft as he sees Greg break into an amused smile. “Well, I think Edith has something to tell you.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mmm.” 

“Papa!” Edith is sitting at the table, a colouring book and pencils in front of her. Mycroft goes towards her, as she holds out her arms expecting to be picked up. 

“Hello dearest.” He picks her up and she rests her head on his shoulder. “How’s my little one?”

“Excited.” 

Mycroft kisses the top of her head, meeting Greg’s eyes. 

Greg’s eyes are shining as he watches them both, leaning against the counter by the cooker where dinner is almost ready. 

“And why are we excited today?” Mycroft asks in amusement.

“We’re writing Santa letters tonight!” 

“Wonderful indeed. I look forward to it.” Mycroft can’t help but smile. 

Greg chuckles, “Isn’t there something you needed to tell Papa about that, darlin’?”

Edith glances up at Mycroft, her face serious. “You and Daddy are too old to write Santa a letter. Only me and Louis can.” 

Mycroft’s eyes widen in surprise and shock. “Excuse me?” 

He can hear Greg’s muffled laughter as he regards his daughter. 

Edith nods solemnly, “Adults are too old for Santa.” 

Mycroft tries his hardest to look upset, biting his tongue so he doesn’t laugh. “Well no one ever told me that before.” 

“Teacher said so.” 

“Well, I’ll certainly be having words with teacher.” 

Mycroft puts Edith down, “Where’s Louis?” 

“He’s doing his homework.” Greg replies, “He’s trying to get finished so he can write his letter to Santa with Edith.” 

“How wonderful.” Perhaps this is progress, he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but he and Greg have talked about this a lot. 

“Can we use some of your pretty paper?” Edith has taken up her pencils again, but she looks up at Mycroft.

Mycroft never thought he’d hear his stationary described as ‘pretty’, but this is life with children. 

“Of course, my dear. As much as you want.” 

“Thank you, Papa.” She grins at him before going back to focus on her colouring. 

Mycroft leans down to press a kiss to her forehead before turning to make his way to Greg.

“Spag Bol alright?” Greg asks, nodding towards the pan on the hob. 

Mycroft smiles, “Wonderful.” 

Greg leans in to kiss his cheek. 

“I’ll go get changed. Shall I call Louis for dinner?” 

Greg runs his hand along the buttons of Mycroft’s waistcoat, sighing softly, biting his lip. 

“Gregory.” Mycroft whispers, pretending very hard to appear scandalised. 

“Miss the days where I could ravish you after work. Get you out of that three-piece by myself.” Greg’s voice is husky as he whispers into Mycroft’s ear, well out of earshot. 

Mycroft can feel the blush heating his cheeks. “Gregory.” 

“Love you, darlin’.” Greg moves forward to kiss him softly. “Now, shoo before I lose control.”

Mycroft can’t help but laugh, “Love you too, even if you are trying to send me to an early grave.”

“Never.” Greg murmurs, adding a chaste kiss. “Dinner will be ready in ten. ‘Kay?” 

“Perfect.” 

Mycroft heads upstairs to their bedroom to change into something more comfortable; also known as something he doesn’t mind getting stained with tomatoes. 

Louis’s door is part open and Mycroft knocks on it. 

“Mycroft?” Louis’s voice is reserved and Mycroft takes that as allowance to enter. 

“How are you, Lou?” 

Louis glances down at the books in front of him and shrugs, “Almost finished maths.”

Mycroft smiles, he can’t help but be proud. Louis has turned out to be incredibly talented when it comes to mathematics. 

When they first fostered him, they immediately changed his schools. In his previous school he was not only bullied, but would spend most of his time avoiding classes. 

The change to a small, private school less than a five minute walk from their home had seemed to turn Louis’s life around. 

The strict anti-bullying charter, small class sizes, and teachers with both time and resources had resulted in new friends, a renewed interest in education, and a sense of security. 

Of course the inevitable had been mentioned once, that of what will happen when he is fostered by a different family. Both Mycroft and Greg have tried to reassure him that he will be with them for as long as he wishes. Confessing they would gladly take him as a long-term foster. 

Now, he is more their son than anything. 

However, the experience of being passed from family to family over his life has been deeply ingrained and it’s only natural to be expecting something of the sort to happen again. 

Greg and Mycroft hope to erase that altogether. 

“Gregory says dinner will be ready soon.” Mycroft places a hand on Louis’s shoulder, “I hear that we’re writing to Santa tonight?” There’s amusement in his voice as he remembers Edith’s comments about both him and Gregory being too old. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

“As a matter of fact, Gregory and I would like to talk with you about that tonight once Edith is sleeping. Would that be alright?”

Brows furrowed, Louis glances up at him hesitantly. 

“Nothing ominous about it, don’t fret.” Mycroft adds, seeing Louis relax a little. 

“Sure.” Louis closes the maths books, “Uh, I’ll get ready for dinner.” 

“Wonderful, I’ll see you downstairs.” 

When Mycroft gets to his and Greg’s room, he starts to undress. As he undoes his tie, he can feel himself lighten. 

The increasingly volatile world political scene has been more than testing recently. 

The last decade has not been an easy one. Greg nearly being cruelly ripped away from him when they’d just been married for two years had been the worst event. 

Coming to terms with Greg’s early retirement, to adjusting his own lifestyle in tune with this. Coming to the decision of retiring early himself had been difficult, it is a phased process; he will not be fully retired for another two years, his workload gradually decreasing as time goes by. 

The transition into having children around the house. The idea of him and Gregory becoming fathers. Making a home for those they fostered, initially on a short-term basis until Louis.

Holding a newborn Edith in his arms, looking up to see Gregory watching them both with utter wonder in his eyes. 

In many ways, it had been a decade of having things he never thought he would: Gregory, children, a happy home, contentment, spare time, _love_.

* * *

Edith sits at the table in front of her Santa Claus plate that she had specially requested to honour the fact that tonight they would be writing to Santa. Greg had laughed but easily given in to his daughter. He’s just ready to serve dinner when he hears steps coming down the stairs. 

Louis is the first to arrive. He’s changed from his uniform into a T-shirt and sweatpants, and seems more at ease than earlier. He sits down at his usual seat beside Edith who is eager to point out her Santa plate. 

Mycroft appears a minute or two later, dressed in an old pair of chinos and a wine-coloured jumper that has Greg itching to touch. He knows how soft it feels under his hands, and would very much like to be reminded. 

Greg’s eyes follow Mycroft as he goes to sit across from Edith, clearly amused by her Santa plate. Greg brings over the bowl of spaghetti first, placing it in the middle of the table. He squeezes Mycroft’s shoulder, unable to help himself. The jumper is as soft as he remembers. 

He brings over the saucepan of bolognese next, setting it down next to the spaghetti. 

“Right, little one.” Greg murmurs to Edith, taking her plate and serving her meal for her. When he puts it down in front of her, she grins “Thanks Daddy.” 

Greg presses a kiss atop her head. “No problem, darlin’.” He goes to sit beside Mycroft, across from Louis who serves himself.

Over the last year Greg has come to learn what dinners Louis genuinely likes, and he’s worked hard to perfect his own recipes. He and Mycroft have joked that perhaps in another life he was a chef. 

After dinner Louis helps Greg clear the table and fill the dishwasher while Mycroft and Edith disappear to his study to let Edith pick out what set of stationary she deems appropriate for Santa. 

“Mycroft said you two wanted to talk to me later.” Louis says quietly. 

Greg smiles reassuringly, “It’s your first Christmas with us, we want to know how you feel about it and maybe what your opinion on being Santa with us would be.” 

“Might be my last.” Louis murmurs, just loud enough for Greg to catch. 

“Lou, love.” Greg rests his hand on Louis’s arm, “You’re with us for as long as you want.” 

Louis looks down at his feet, “At least Ma can’t take me away anymore.” 

Greg feels out of his depth. 

Louis’s mother had passed away in March following a fatal overdose. His father had passed when he was two. However, Louis’s mother had had a habit of getting clean for a few months at a time, being granted custody of Louis again and taking him away from his foster family at the time. When he inevitably ended up back in care, his former families had moved on. Mycroft and Greg had sworn from the beginning that they would not let that happen to him under their care. 

If needed, Mycroft has access to the best lawyers and barristers in the country. 

“No.” Greg manages, “You’re safe here.”

Louis looks up to him with shining eyes, and takes Greg off-guard by hugging him. “Thank you.” He whispers. 

Greg holds onto him, “No need to thank us, you’re our son. We love you. It’s our privilege to have you in our lives.”

Once Mycroft and Edith return, they all relocate to the sitting room. Edith sits on the floor beside the Christmas tree and beckons for Louis to sit beside her. 

Greg and Mycroft sit beside each other on the sofa, leaning into each other. 

Last year they had both helped Edith write her letter, this year she’s able to write on her own. 

Greg rests his hand high on Mycroft’s thigh, squeezing once and is gladly rewarded a kiss on the cheek. 

“I’ve written to presidents on that stationary.” Mycroft murmurs under his breath, amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“Well now it’s being used to write to Santa. Should be honoured.” 

Greg feels his heart jump upon hearing Mycroft’s quiet laughter. 

“So, I’m not too old to write to Santa?” Louis asks Edith, staring warily at his blank page. 

Edith deposits her pencil case of gel pens between them. “Nope.”

“What age is too old?” 

Edith shrugs, “When you’re a grown up.”

Greg and Mycroft share a glance, but say nothing. 

Louis seems just as amused as them, but stares down at his blank page, biting his lip. 

“Does our postman go to the North Pole, Papa?” 

Greg watches as Mycroft skilfully schools his face into seriousness. “Of course. He brings all the Santa letters from his route with him.” 

Edith nods, then tilts her head, “Delilah says that her and her brother put their Santa letter up the chimney.” She says matter-of-factly. 

“Her postman isn’t Ben though.” Greg points out. 

“Sophie said her mum brings her to the postbox.” 

“Yet again, she does not have our postman.” Mycroft says steadily. 

“But...” She murmurs, glancing at Louis’s blank page. “How can Santa read all the letters?” 

“He’s magic, isn’t he?” Louis cuts in, “‘Course he can read them all.” 

He casts a conspiratorial glance back at Mycroft and Greg who can’t help but smile. 

Edith finishes off her letter by sprinkling glitter on it. 

“What did you ask for?” Edith asks Louis curiously. 

Louis shrugs, “Just a few books. I want to learn how to code.” 

“What’s that?” Edith asks. 

“It’s a thing you do with a computer.” 

Greg can’t help but smile in pride, Louis catches his eye and blushes, embarrassed. 

“What about you, darlin’?” Greg asks Edith.

Edith folds her letter in half, “I wanted a unicorn, but Papa told me they went like the dinosaurs.” 

Greg catches Mycroft’s eye for a split second and has to look away before he laughs. 

“So what have you settled on then?” Greg asks, voice full of amusement. 

“A trampoline and a goldfish.” She replies simply. 

Greg startles slightly at Mycroft’s hand being laid on his thigh. “A goldfish?” There’s a playful tone in his husband’s voice, and Greg knows that he’s thinking of those days that Sherlock referred to himself as Mycroft’s goldfish. 

Edith nods, “There was a book in the library when teacher took us there about them and it was cool!” 

“I’m sure it was.” Mycroft says evenly, “Perhaps Santa will add in a few books about caring for your goldfish. It’s certainly a big responsibility my dear.”

“I’m old enough!” Edith says confidently. 

Somehow, they all manage to not laugh out loud. 

Louis rolls his eyes, amusement written on his face as he watches Edith.

“But not too old for Santa to read your letter?” Mycroft queries. 

“No!” 

Greg watches the family that Mycroft and himself have created. His husband, their four year old who is beyond confident in her belief she can look after a goldfish, and their thirteen year old son who is finally smiling at the Christmas shenanigans. 

He’s so delighted and proud that he nearly needs to pinch himself to make sure it’s all real. 

* * *

“Time for bed, little one.” Mycroft announces once they’ve cleared away the mess. Both letters sit on the hall table, ready to be given to their postman in the morning. He usually calls before Greg leaves to take Edith to school, so she feels excited to be given that job by Louis. 

Edith sighs, “Okay, but you’ll read to me?” 

“Certainly.” Mycroft holds out his hand for Edith to take.

They’ve been slowly making their way through a new storybook of tales with strong female characters. Edith adores it when Mycroft puts on voices for different characters. 

“Can Daddy come too?” 

Mycroft can’t help but smile. Their family is so close-knit that it makes Mycroft’s chest swell with pride. 

“‘Course I can, darlin’.” Greg moves to get up, glancing at Louis, “Going to watch some TV?”

Louis smiles towards the three of them and nods. “Night, Edith.” 

Edith lets go of his hand to run over to Louis to give him a goodnight hug. “Night! You’re the best big brother.” 

As she turns towards them again, Mycroft catches Louis’s eye, his face inscrutable. “We’ll be back soon, alright?” 

“Sure.” 

They have yet to have that conversation about Christmas. 

After a quick bath, Edith curls up in bed with her favourite teddybear. 

Mycroft and Greg sit by her bed, Greg leaning into his side, a content smile on his face as Mycroft reads. 

Soon enough, Edith starts to fall asleep. When they’re sure she’s asleep, they leave her nightlight on and close her door quietly. 

In the hallway, Greg presses Mycroft up against the wall. 

Mycroft still can never quite get over the way that Greg looks at him. They’ve been married for a decade and have been together for just over fifteen years, yet Greg still looks at him the way he did in the early days of their relationship; warmth, love, desire. 

Mycroft’s certain that Greg sees the same when he sees Mycroft staring at him. 

“Finally got you alone for five minutes.” Voice low and husky, immediately Mycroft can feel the heat in his blood, Greg doesn’t give him an opportunity to reply, he leans in and kisses him. 

Greg’s lips are warm, soft, and so familiar that it’s so easy for Mycroft to sink into the kiss. 

Mycroft wraps his arms around Greg’s shoulders, pulling him in closer. When he tries to deepen the kiss, he’s taken off-guard by Greg chuckling. 

“Later, love.” Greg murmurs, “Need to talk with Louis.” 

Mycroft nods in understanding, cheeks red. “You irresistible man.” 

Greg snorts, pressing a kiss to Mycroft’s nose and taking his hand. 

When they get back to the sitting room, Louis is curled up on the sofa, a fleece throw wrapped around him. He’s intently watching something that Mycroft thinks could be Doctor Who. 

He looks up at them as they close the sitting room door. 

His gaze lingers on their joined hands and a small smile crosses his face. Mycroft and Greg sit near him and he turns the TV onto mute. 

“Louis,” Mycroft begins, “What’s your honest opinion on Christmas?”

Louis bites his bottom lip, avoiding Mycroft’s eyes. “Never really, uh, had one.” 

“At all?” Greg asks, voice strained. 

Louis shrugs, forcing nonchalance. “Learnt there was no such thing as Santa straight away. Ma never had the money to celebrate. No decorations, we were lucky if we had food.” 

He glances down at his hands, “When I went into care, there was never the resources there. I wasn’t ever with a foster family over Christmas, so I never really got to have one. Just seen a lot of Christmas movies with happy families and I feel like I’ve missed anything magical about it.”

Greg squeezes Mycroft’s hand. “And you’re content to take part in Christmas this year?” 

Louis smiles in amusement, “Of course. You two…and Edith, you remind me of those movies. I’m not dreading it this year, like I have been every other year.” 

“That’s wonderful.” Mycroft feels like a weight has been lifted from his chest. He knows Christmas can be difficult, has had many difficult ones himself. He’s more than aware how delicate a balance it can be. Of course they wanted Christmas to be magical for Edith, but they also didn’t want it to seem like they were forcing Louis into a situation he wouldn’t be comfortable in. 

“Fantastic!” Greg enthuses from his side. “And are you on for playing Santa with us?” 

At this, Louis breaks out into a genuine smile. “Tonight was brilliant.” 

Mycroft laughs, “I’m surprised she still believes. She’s so observant. I expect a lot more questions about Santa from now until Christmas.” 

Greg chuckles, “We’ll just keep answering ridiculously. S’all we can do.” 

“Is it just us for Christmas dinner?” 

Mycroft nods, “Just us four, is that satisfactory?” 

Some tension dissipates from Louis’s shoulders. “Yeah. So it’ll be quiet?” 

“Depends on Edith’s level of quiet, but hopefully.” Greg adds. 

“At school I’ve heard people talk about their dinners being all extended family and it sounds like hell.” He shrugs, “Bit relieved that’s not us.” 

Mycroft nods in understanding. “As am I, truly.” Painful memories of Christmas dinners from most of his life still ache at this time of year. When Greg first suggested it be only the two of them for Christmas all those years ago, they never went back to big gatherings. 

Louis tilts his head, “I know you’ve had Edith the last few years, but…have you ever had a foster over the holidays?” 

“Matthew was with us from October to early February five years ago.” Greg answers easily, “He was fifteen at the time. We tried to make it as peaceful as we could for him.”

“We also had Isabelle, who was seven on the run up to Christmas six years ago.” Mycroft adds, “However she left us the second week in December. We still made sure that Santa was good to her that year.” 

“Was it difficult to say goodbye?” 

Mycroft is momentarily at a loss for words, Greg is silent too. Mycroft can sense the sudden tensing of Greg’s body. This would forever be a difficult topic, they both knew that. However, it was necessary to talk about if asked. As had happened many times within their years of fostering. 

“Incredibly difficult.” Mycroft’s voice is quiet, he hopes the pain of the memories doesn’t come across in his words. 

“Those children were in our care, we ensured they were safe, healthy, and content. They were our children too.” Mycroft catches Louis’s eye, “Of course we knew there would be a goodbye; that’s the nature of fostering in the first place. But we were seeing them off to happier, long-term situations and families. It’s heartbreaking to say goodbye, but there is the hope that they’re heading into a better situation.” 

“Yeah.” Greg adds, “It’s like losing a piece of yourself. But it’s always been worth it. If us two were the much needed stability in a child’s life at a certain point of time, we’re glad to have been there.” 

“But you’ve had me for almost a year.”

Mycroft raises an eyebrow, “And?” 

Louis merely shrugs. 

“No, say what you were thinking. Please.” 

“Do…do you wish you had another foster…that I was less, uh, long-term?”

“Oh Louis.” Greg manages, voice strained. “Of course not.”

Louis looks away from them, embarrassed. 

“Louis,” Mycroft says evenly, “As far as we are concerned, you are our son.”

Louis gaze turns to him, surprise written across his face. Perhaps he is more accustomed to hearing Greg say things of this nature. 

Mycroft takes a steadying breath. Greg squeezes his hand. “We would gladly have you for life. We’d be honoured, even. Edith too, she loves you and sees you as her brother. We are honoured and proud that we have this chance to be your fathers.” 

Louis watches them both, eyes shining with tears. He moves to get up, a shy smile on his face. “Well,” he says quietly, “I think of you two as my dads.” He leans in, giving both Mycroft and Greg hugs. “Thank you.” 

Mycroft finds he has a lump in his throat that won’t allow him to speak. 

Instead, Greg manages it for both of them. “We love you, Louis.” 

Louis hasn’t stopped smiling. He pushes his hair out of his eyes, “I love you both too. Uh- I’m…I’m gonna go to bed.” 

“See you in the mornin’, darlin’”. 

“Sleep well.” Mycroft’s voice is weak when he finds it again. But Louis grins at him, understanding in his expression. 

Greg sits beside him in silence as they listen to Louis’s steps on the stairs. 

When they fade and they hear his door close upstairs, they both stare at each other in amazement at what has just transpired. 

“Well, how about that?” Greg asks. 

“Delighted.” Mycroft whispers.

Greg pulls him into a kiss and Mycroft’s overjoyed that he can feel Greg’s smile against his lips. 

The kiss is leisurely, gentle. Greg cradles Mycroft’s face and Mycroft easily sinks into him. 

After the kiss, Greg rests his forehead against Mycroft’s. 

“His dads.” Mycroft murmurs, voice heavy with emotion. 

Greg’s laugh makes Mycroft’s heart soar. “We must be doing something right after all.” 

Mycroft presses a kiss to Greg’s cheek, “We are. Thank you, my love.” 

Greg chuckles, “Couldn’t do it without you, darlin’. We are and always have been a team in this.” 

“Christ.” Mycroft whispers, he can feel tears sting his eyes. “I love you, Gregory.” 

Greg gently tilts his head up by the chin, meeting Mycroft’s eyes. Mycroft finds it so easy to get lost in those chocolate eyes, Greg often lays his emotions bare in this way. His laughter lines are pronounced as he smiles at Mycroft. 

Mycroft has never felt as safe as he does at times like this. It’s always been Greg. 

“I love you too, darlin’.” Greg’s eyes are shining too, “So much I could burst.”

Mycroft can’t help but press a chaste kiss to Greg’s lips. 

“Let’s go upstairs, yeah?” Greg suggests, raising a brow as he waits for Mycroft’s answer, but his grin shows that he already knows what it will be. 

Mycroft gives his answer through another kiss, reaching to take Greg’s hand in his.

* * *

It’s a week until Christmas, both Edith and Louis’s schools are closing up on Monday. 

However, their Wednesdays are traditionally the time for Louis’s therapy. Greg waits outside the school gates, Edith holding his hand as they see teenagers start to file out the doors.

“Daddy?” 

“Yes, darlin’?” 

“Why can’t you arrest Santa?” 

Greg temporarily forgets how to breathe, coughing to hide his laughter he watches his daughter in shock. “W-why would I want to arrest Santa?” 

“Because you and Papa said lying is bad.” 

Greg stares at her, wishing he had Mycroft’s quick wit by his side. 

“And teacher brought in a Santa to us today, but I knew it was the caretaker dressed up. So can’t you arrest him for pretending to be Santa?” 

“Uhm.” Greg struggles to string together something coherent. “The real Santa Claus is very busy right now.” Greg manages, “So…some people are just acting.”

“Like the scary Santa in the shopping centre?”

Greg nods, “Exactly.” 

Edith is silent for a few seconds, expression serious. “Orla thought he was real, but I didn’t tell her he wasn’t.” She shrugs, “That would have been mean.” 

Greg stares at his daughter in amazement. “It would have been. You’re the best, darlin’.” 

“That would have been something Uncle Sherlock would have done.” 

Greg can’t help but agree. 

A few months ago, Edith had made her way into Mycroft’s office unnoticed by both Mycroft and Sherlock. Edith had heard Sherlock speak as Sherlock usually did to Mycroft; no filters or forced politeness that was usually the case around the children. 

As an incredibly observant child, she was also often in tune with Mycroft’s emotions. 

All that she told Greg later, before he had heard the full story from Mycroft had been: ‘Sherlock was being mean to Papa, and Papa was upset.’ 

She had stayed by Mycroft’s side exclusively for the next few days. 

She refused to see Sherlock after that. Neither Greg nor Mycroft challenged her decision. 

“Lou!” Edith’s shrill voice put any further conversation around fake Santas to bed once she caught sight of her brother. 

Louis comes towards them, an embarrassed smile on his face. Edith hugs him and Greg watches proudly. “How was your day?” Greg asks, taking Louis’s backpack from him and carrying it. 

Louis shrugs as they begin to walking. “Alright, I suppose.”

Greg raises an eyebrow in question, Edith holds Louis’s hand. “Oh?”

“Library was closed today. Our librarian has the flu. Was just weird not being able to spend lunch there.” 

It’s things like this that make Greg see the similarities between them all. Mycroft had told him that in his school years he had taken refuge in the school library, now Louis mirrors that. 

“Myc would sympathise with you.” Greg says, amusement in his voice. 

Louis chuckles, “No one forced us into sport though. He told me that horror story.” 

“Oi, nothing wrong with a bit of footie.” Greg counters jokingly. 

The walk to Louis’s therapist’s office is a short one. Her building is right beside a small cafe. Usually, Greg and Edith will wait in there, at times joined by Mycroft. 

It’s also convenient to be so close in case Louis would like Mycroft or Greg to join him at any point, which has happened before. 

Greg comes to a stop beside the steps to the building. “Do you want me to come in?” 

Louis shakes his head, “Not right now, but if something comes up, I’ll call you.” 

Greg nods in understanding, he reaches out to ruffle Louis’s hair. “See you in a bit then, Lou.” 

“Thanks, dad.” Louis blushes and he’s disappeared through the door before Greg can reply. 

Greg can’t help but smile, every time he’s called dad by Louis is unexpected and the pride and love that he feels for Louis warms his chest. 

“C’mon darlin’.” Greg manages finally, Edith has been watching him in silence. “Hot chocolate?” 

Edith walks by his side into the familiar cafe. “Please.” 

They take their usual places, a sofa by the window that sits beside an armchair with a small table between them. 

Greg is helping Edith with her reading homework when they sense someone moving towards them. They both look up at the same time and Edith shouts “Papa!” loud enough that other customers turn to stare. 

Greg can’t help the excited thud of his heart. Can’t help the warmth that runs through him at the sight of the man he loves. 

Mycroft leans in to kiss Edith on the head, “Hello, little one.” 

“This is a surprise.” Greg murmurs, meeting Mycroft’s eyes at he stands again. 

Mycroft winks at him, before kissing him gently. “I finished at work early. I knew you’d both be here.” 

“Well aren’t you a right genius.” Greg teases, delighted by the amusement that flickers in Mycroft’s eyes. 

“So I’ve been told.” Mycroft jokes, “More coffee?” 

“Please, love.” 

Mycroft nods, before turning to go order his coffee. Edith jumps off the couch and walks by his side. 

Greg sits back on the sofa, and watches Mycroft and Edith walk together, Edith taking Mycroft’s offered hand and he can’t help but smile at the scene. 

Mycroft took so easily to fatherhood that it had surprised him. Greg, however, had not been surprised at all. After all, he’d seen Mycroft around young children, more importantly he had seen Mycroft around Rosie when she was young. 

If Rosie had needed a babysitter, Mycroft would nearly have crossed an ocean to offer his help. 

Greg had surmised that Mycroft knew from his own childhood how exactly not to treat a child.

He had been proven correct. 

Fostering children over five years old, and teenagers had been challenging, but enlightening. 

As Edith was theirs, she had been the first child they’d raised from birth. 

They had both found that no matter the age, parenthood was one continuous learning experience that was endlessly fulfilling. 

Greg can’t help but love Mycroft more and more each day. 

He grins as Edith and Mycroft make their way back from the counter. Mycroft carrying a tray for his tea and Greg’s cappuccino, with another hot chocolate for Edith. 

Mycroft sits beside Greg on the sofa and Edith sits between them.

“I received the final proofs of the papers today.” Mycroft says this casually, but when Greg turns to him in shock, he sees that Mycroft is far from calm. 

Mycroft is watching him, eyes filled with trepidation. Forehead creased. 

Greg reaches out to press his hand against Mycroft’s cheek, his thumb strokes the warm skin slowly. Mycroft closes his eyes at the touch, some tension escaping his body. 

Mycroft’s grey-blue eyes are calmer when he opens them, and it takes everything in Greg to not pull him up and into his arms. 

Greg feels a jump of excitement in his chest, nonetheless. “So...Christmas day?” 

Mycroft nods, “If you wish.” 

Greg can only nod, before Edith looks up at him. “What’s Christmas Day?” 

Greg silently curses himself. “Just that Papa is going to help me cook our dinner on Christmas Day.”

Mycroft’s amused laugh warms Greg’s heart. “Indeed I am.” 

Greg winks at him and delights in the light pink blush that fills Mycroft’s cheeks. 

They’re listening to Edith read when the cafe door opens and Louis walks in. 

Louis is paler than earlier, and as he comes closer, Greg sees that his eyes are red-rimmed as though he’d been crying. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Mycroft come to that exact conclusion at the same time. 

“Hey there, Lou. Coming to sit down?” Greg forces a smile, trying to ignore the worry weighing in his chest. 

Louis smiles at the three of them, it’s genuine and Greg feels some tension leave his body. 

“Lou!” Edith holds out her arms to him. He laughs, carefree. 

Greg meets Mycroft’s eyes as Edith goes to sit beside Louis on the armchair to their side. 

The look he receives is a mixture of confusion and relief, Greg is sure that his face must convey the same to his husband. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Mycroft asks, voice even. 

Louis nods, “Just some hot chocolate, please.” 

“As you wish.” Mycroft says, rising to go to the counter. 

Greg watches Louis listen as Edith reads to him and emotions wash over him as he does. Warmth and love fills his chest. He meets Mycroft’s gaze as he returns with Louis’s drink and can’t help but smile. 

This is their family; they’re safe, in love, and happy. 

“How was your appointment?” Greg asks, he’s sitting against Mycroft now that Edith has chosen sit by Louis’s side. Mycroft’s hand rests high on his thigh. 

Louis looks thoughtful for a minute, then takes a sip of his hot chocolate. “We talked about the concept of found families.” He glances down at Edith. “I’d never heard of it, but I think it’s amazing.” 

Greg feels Mycroft’s hand squeeze his thigh, he can’t help but smile and lean into him more. 

“I’m familiar with it.” Mycroft says softly, “And I have discovered, and firmly believe that being able to choose who your family consists of is perhaps the most important and rewarding process you will ever go through.” Mycroft looks to Greg, eyes soft and open, “Gregory thought me that many years ago. Blood ties do not constitute what a family is. Safety and love do.” 

Greg feels his own eyes sting with tears, without thinking about it, he leans in to press a chaste kiss on Mycroft’s cheek. When he looks back at Louis, he sees him watching them admirably. 

“I’ve certainly found my family.” Louis murmurs, barely loud enough for them to hear. 

They both hear it, nonetheless. Smiling, they both go to hug their children, in tandem as always. 

* * *

“Papa?” 

Mycroft looks down at his daughter, she’s sitting beside him in a Costa as they wait for Greg and Louis to return from the Tesco on the other side of the shopping centre. It’s the Sunday before Christmas and the centre is full of bustling crowds. 

“Yes, little one?” 

Edith bites her lip, hesitant and Mycroft follows her gaze. There’s a vaguely familiar woman talking to someone, showing them a box that they’ve just removed from a bag they were carrying from the local toy shop. 

Mycroft bites his tongue, he can only begin to imagine the questions that will be asked. 

“That lady is Annie’s mum.” Edith nods her head towards the woman. 

Mycroft merely hums in acknowledgement, wishing Gregory were beside him. Louis too, he has been exceptional lately whenever any doubts or uncertainties concerning the logic of Santa had come into question. 

Mycroft’s fingers twitch around his cup of tea, should he send them a text, ask for backup? 

“Annie said she asked Santa for that LOL Doll, but her mum is holding it. Why isn’t she letting Santa make it?” 

Mycroft is frankly horrified and has no intention of discovering what exactly a said ‘LOL Doll’ is, but as always, Edith has asked a valid, intelligent question. 

Edith watches him with wide, sea-blue eyes. Earlier today, she had already pointed out to them all that the shopping centre Santa was not really Santa and that even his beard was fake. 

She had seemed to accept the explanation that the real Santa is very busy right now and people were going to pretend. 

Mycroft is left there, his daughter staring intently at him waiting for an answer. 

Internally, he panics. 

He and Gregory truly want nothing more than for Christmas to be magical for her. 

Greg has many happy memories of childhood Christmases, going to bed early so Santa could come, listening out for reindeers’ hooves on the roof.

Mycroft has none of these memories. Santa had been a falsehood since he was young enough to understand. He knew little joy at Christmas. 

It had been due to Greg that Christmas had become an enjoyable time. Mycroft wanted desperately to create a magical and memorable environment for all the children that had been in their care. 

They knew early on that the struggle of keeping Santa real for Edith, as observant and intelligent as she was, was going to be a challenge. 

Mycroft trawls his mind for something believable. “Sometimes,” He begins, “Santa gets so busy that parents have to help him with the presents.” Mycroft bites his lip, “But it’s very secret.” 

Edith stares up at him looking completely unconvinced. “But everyone says Santa is magic.”

“He is indeed.”

Edith watches him, “Then why can’t he do everything himself?”

Mycroft catches sight of Greg and Louis approaching them with shopping bags and from Mycroft’s expression, Greg seems to notice immediately that something is amiss. 

“Hey there darlin’.” Greg says coming into the cafe. 

Edith temporarily distracted, reaches her arms out for a hug from her father. 

Greg kisses the top of her head, “Right, so we going home then?” 

“Why does Santa need parents to help him with presents sometimes?” Edith asks, staring now at Greg with a certain determination. 

Mycroft’s heart sinks and Greg’s face pales. 

Before Greg manages to say a word, Edith continues. “Santa is magic, even Papa says that. So why can’t he do it all himself?”

Mycroft meets Greg’s eyes and Greg is as lost for words as Mycroft. 

Four really is far too young to learn Santa isn’t real, surely?  


“There are billions of people in the world, Edith.” Louis begins, sitting in the empty chair beside her. Edith turns to him expectantly, while Mycroft feels his heart race. 

Greg manages to sit beside Mycroft, and Mycroft is relieved to find that Greg is searching for his hand. 

“More than seven billion people.” Louis continues. “So a couple of billion children too.” He looks at her as though to check she’s still following him. She merely nods. 

Mycroft squeezes Greg’s hand, Greg squeezes back in acknowledgement as they nervously watch their children. 

“Every year, there are more and more kids, okay?” Louis asks, “So it’s getting harder for Santa even with all his magic and his elves to get everything done in time.”

“Why?” Edith challenges. 

Louis glances up at Mycroft and Greg and smiles reassuringly. 

Greg is clinging to Mycroft’s hand now. 

“Because we all write our Christmas letters too late. So we only give him a few weeks to sort out all the presents for all the children. So he has to ask parents sometimes.”

Edith is silent as she considers this, then looks across to Mycroft and Greg. “Do _you_ help Santa?” 

“Well surely that is a secret, my dear.” Mycroft murmurs, putting on his best impression of being scandalised. 

“But if Santa brought my goldfish from the North Pole, wouldn’t he freeze to death?” 

Greg and Mycroft share a look and Greg’s face is going a deep shade of red as he tries to hold in a laugh. 

Mycroft thinks he can’t possibly fall more in love with the man beside him, but every day surprises him. 

Mycroft raises his hands in surrender, “Fine, you’ve figured us out.” He says, amused. 

Louis laughs out loud at them, especially at Edith’s victorious expression. 

“You’d certainly make a brilliant detective as your father was.” 

Edith looks to Greg, eyes shining. “Daddy, can I?” 

Greg’s amused expression rapidly disappears, clearly remembering the incident that put an end to his career, and nearly his life. “It’s very dangerous, darlin’.” 

“But you and Papa will protect me.” She replies simply. 

Mycroft squeezes his husband’s hand. “Of course we will, my love.” 

Later on that night, Greg is sitting up beside him in bed reading when Mycroft suddenly remembers the goldfish. 

“How on earth are we going to keep a goldfish alive until Wednesday?” 

Greg closes his book and places it on the bedside table. “Buy it on Tuesday evening, with a bit of luck it’ll survive until at least lunchtime Christmas Day.” A smile is playing at the corners of his lips and Mycroft has a distinct feeling that he is being teased. 

“And how exactly will we explain to a four year old how to care for one? Explaining its short lifespan also.” 

Greg places a hand over Mycroft’s. “We’ll figure it out, just like with everything else we’ve done so far together.” 

Mycroft feels some of the tension lessen in his body. “However are we going to assemble a trampoline in the dark?” 

Greg snorts, “Had been asking myself the same question too, to be honest.” He laughs, “It’ll certainly be an experience.” 

“Well everything apart from the goldfish is being stored in my office until Tuesday evening.” 

“Being your usual magical self as always. My hero.” Greg presses a kiss to his cheek. 

Mycroft can feel himself blush, leaning in to Greg. 

“Don’t stress about it, love. S’only Christmas.” 

Mycroft sighs, “I hope Louis enjoys it too.” 

“Mycroft, we’ve got him a laptop and coding books.” Greg pauses, “And the adoption papers.” He smiles, eyes nervous. “Hopefully it’ll be the happiest Christmas he’s known.” 

Mycroft nods, “The first of many.” 

Greg leans in to kiss him, it’s slow and gentle. “I love you, Myc. So much, I think I’m gonna explode with it sometimes. We’ve created so much together, I love you.” He leans in to kiss Mycroft again, “I.” Kiss, “Love.” Kiss, “You.” Another kiss, this one lingering. 

Mycroft melts under Greg, “Gregory, you are my life. I love you more each day.” 

“Mmh.” Greg murmurs against his lips, “Show me.” Voice rough with arousal. 

Mycroft doesn’t need to be asked twice. “Gladly.” He whispers, “Gladly.” 

* * *

Greg’s sitting at the kitchen island drinking a cup of coffee and reading a book when he hears the front door open. He glances at his watch confused, he doesn’t have to pick Edith up for an hour, and Louis won’t be home for another two hours. 

“Myc?” Greg calls hopefully. 

Mycroft walks into the kitchen, still in his coat, scarf and gloves. He smiles at Greg, a gift bag in his hand. “Gregory, my love. How are you?” 

“Better now.” Greg murmurs, making his way towards his husband. He pulls him into a kiss, hands gentle in Mycroft’s hair. Mycroft’s leather-clad hands caress his cheeks, and Greg shivers against Mycroft. 

“What’s got you home this early?” Greg asks, forehead against Mycroft’s. 

“Well,” Mycroft murmurs, pressing the ghost of a kiss to Greg’s lips, Greg can feel the smile on Mycroft’s lips and his heart jumps inhis chest. “I am officially on holiday.” 

Greg takes a step back in order to meet Mycroft’s eyes. “Seriously?” He asks, excitement in his voice. Mycroft has rarely been able to go through even a Christmas day free of work, despite his best efforts. Him being free even two days before Christmas is unheard of. 

Mycroft watches him in amusement, “Strictly no contact is to be made with me until the 28th unless in the case of a catastrophic emergency.” 

Greg can’t help but pull Mycroft into a hug. “You wonderful man.” 

Mycroft wraps his arms around Greg’s shoulders. “If all goes to plan, I will be fully retired by next Christmas.” 

“Merry Christmas to me!” Greg cannot help but smile. 

Mycroft chuckles, pressing a kiss to Greg’s cheek. “I have your present here.” 

Greg glances at the gift bag that Mycroft had carried in. “Exchange gifts before we go to sleep on Christmas Eve?” 

Mycroft raises a brow, “I do suppose Edith will have us up in the early hours.” 

Greg nods, “Want to be able to appreciate it. With you.” 

“Of course, my love. Of course.” 

Mycroft has Greg pressed against the fridge, intently kissing down his neck, cold hands under Greg’s shirt. Greg moans, head thrown back. “Christ, Myc.” 

Greg can feel Mycroft’s shake of laughter, and he can’t help but cry out when he feels Mycroft bitethe skin on his shoulder, far enough away from prying eyes. 

Greg’s hands trail down Mycroft’s back, intent on finding their way to his husband’s arse, but Greg’s phone ringing startles them both. 

“Lemme check, darlin’.” He whispers, Mycroft watches him intently as he goes to his phone, both of them equally dishevelled. 

Greg’s stomach drops when he sees it’s Edith’s school calling. 

Mycroft sees it in his face and comes closer. 

“Hello?” Greg asks, voice obviously worried. He glances at the clock and sees he still has forty minutes to go before she’s finished school. 

_“Greg, Edith’s father?”_ Greg vaguely recognises the voice. 

“Yes. Is Edith alright?” Mycroft comes to his side, placing a hand over Greg’s on the countertop. 

There’s a nervous pause. _“This is Edith’s teacher, Monica. Edith’s a bit upset due to a topic that came up in class and I was wonderingif you’d be able to come collect her early?”_

Mycroft takes out his own phone, texting for his driver, he nods once at Greg. 

Greg’s heart is thudding in his chest for an entirely different reason now. “We can be there in five minutes.” 

_“Great. See you then, again I’m very sorry about this.”_

“Just tell her her Daddy and Papa are on their way.” 

Greg hears an intake of breath. Monica has met Mycroft once before and it was obvious that she’d been told he was important in politics and had been terribly nervous as a result. 

_“Of course, goodbye.”_ She says quickly before hanging up. 

“Our driver is outside.” Mycroft murmurs, forehead creased with worry. He helps Greg adjust his shirt, runs his long fingers through Greg’s hair to tame it.  
Greg mirrors Mycroft’s actions, carefully retying Mycroft’s tie for him, his hands shaking. 

Greg feels Mycroft’s hands surround his own, “Edith is strong.”

Greg nods, “I know, but I hate to see her upset.” Greg murmurs as they head for the door. “What if one of the other kids has been homophobic again?” 

Mycroft ushers Greg out the door, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I ensured that they all had an appropriate talk about diversity and the many different forms of family. I doubt anyone will have tried that again.” 

Greg sits beside Mycroft, shoulders touching as their driver manoeuvres through traffic. They hold hands in the silence. 

They arrive outside Edith’s school within minutes, Greg thanks their driver and Mycroft asks him to wait here for them. 

“I have no idea what to expect.” Greg murmurs almost to himself as they walk across the empty playground. 

“Nor do I.” Mycroft confesses, pressing a gloved hand on the bell to the office. They hear the door unlock and walk in, Edith is sitting outside the secretary’s office, still clearly upset. Her cheeks are red from crying and she holds a tissue crumpled in her hands. 

An extremely pale woman in a Santa hat is crouched down beside Edith, talking to her. She glances around at them, eyes nervous. 

Edith follows her line of sight and when she sees Greg with Mycroft her face breaks out in a grin, she holds out her arms, “Daddy! Papa!” 

Mycroft and Greg both go to hug her, and Mycroft picks her up. She lays her head on his shoulder and Greg watches them with nothing but love in his eyes. 

“Misters Holmes-Lestrade. Uh, I’m Edith’s teacher.” Monica crosses her arms across her chest, biting her lip. 

“What made Edith so upset?” Greg asks, almost afraid to find out. 

Monica glances at them both, eyes quickly moving away from Mycroft’s stern expression. “Well, we were talking about Christmas presents, and three of her classmates are getting puppies from Santa this year.” 

Greg and Mycroft share a confused glance. 

It’s then that Edith begins crying again. 

Greg rushes to Mycroft’s side, pressing a kiss on Edith’s forehead, and brushing her hair away from her eyes as her head rests on Mycroft’s shoulders. 

“Shh, darlin’. S’okay, me and Papa are here. What’s wrong, darlin’?” 

Monica glances down at her feet, seeming to gather courage. “I may have mentioned the fact that many dogs get abandoned after Christmas, especially once they get bigger.”

“Why on earth would you tell a class of four year olds that?” Mycroft asks aghast, he’s holding Edith close to him, her sobs are muffled by his shoulder. 

Greg stares at Monica in confusion. Thoughts echoing Mycroft’s words. 

“I was merely trying to explain how pets are not just for Christmas. It’s a serious problem. I volunteer at a local shelter and the influx of dogs after January is heartbreaking.” 

Greg frowns, “Surely they didn’t have to learn this on the day they get their Christmas holidays?” 

“Edith seemed to be the only one badly effected.” Monica offers. 

Greg and Mycroft share another glance, “Edith is quite the empath.” Mycroft murmurs, he’s already moving towards the door. 

Monica nods in understanding, “I can only apologise.” 

“Well, thank you for calling us to collect her. Do you need me to sign her out?” Greg asks. 

“If you could, please.” 

Greg follows Monica into the office while Mycroft waits by the entrance with Edith in his arms. 

The secretary shoots Greg a sympathetic glance but doesn’t say anything as Greg signs Edith out. 

“I am truly sorry about this.” Monica murmurs, at Greg’s side as he turns to leave the office. 

Greg sighs, “Can hardly say it’s your fault. You didn’t mean any harm by it.” He nods at her, “Thanks for letting us know, bye.” 

“Merry Christmas, Edith!” Monica calls, Mycroft serves her with a withering glare as Greg comes to his side to open the door for him. 

“If she was not so highly qualified, she’d be fired.” 

Greg rests his hand at the base of Mycroft’s spine as they walk through the playground, “Edith, you alright darlin’?” 

“It’s not fair.” Her voice is muffled by Mycroft’s shoulder. 

“No.” Greg murmurs sadly, “It’s not.” 

He meets Mycroft’s nervous glance and nods in agreement to the unsaid. Today is not the day to try and teach their four year old that life is often not fair. 

No, it’s Christmas and they want it to remain magical for as long as it can. 

Sitting between them both in the car on the way home, Edith rests her head against Mycroft’s arm and holds Greg’s hand. 

“I don’t want a goldfish anymore.” Her voice is quiet. 

Greg and Mycroft glance at each other in trepidation. 

“That’s alright. We’ll let Santa know.” Greg says reassuringly. 

Edith nods, “Good.” 

“Do you want something else in place of the fish?” Mycroft asks hesitantly. 

They’re both expecting the answer to be yes, a dog of course. Neither breech the topic. 

Edith shakes her head. “Not from Santa.”

Greg frowns, “Then from who?” 

“You and Papa.” 

“And what, my darling, would that be?” Mycroft asks. 

Edith looks up at them both with what could only be appropriately called ‘puppy dog eyes’. 

Greg feels himself hold his breath. He glances over and sees Mycroft biting his bottom lip. 

“Can we go visit the dogs in the shelter after Christmas?” 

“Only visit?” 

She nods, “To keep them company.” 

Greg meets Mycroft’s eyes, nods in silent agreement and then presses a kiss to Edith’s forehead. “Of course, darlin’. I’m sure the dogs would love to see you.” 

Her smile is like the sunshine, “Really?” The excitement in her voice is palpable. 

“Without a doubt.” Mycroft joins in, staring at her proudly. “A little kindness will go a long way.” 

“Can we take them for walks?!” 

“Perhaps, it’s entirely depending on the people that look after the dogs.” 

Edith nods in understanding, a content smile on her face. Greg feels his heart swell. 

* * *

Christmas Eve arrives in a blur, in the evening all four of them sit together on the sofa in front of the TV. The remains of a takeaway sits on the coffee table in front of them. 

Mycroft sits beside Greg, who sits beside Edith, who is leaning into Louis as they watch TV. 

When Louis had heard about the dog crisis, he had offered the name of a show called ‘ _For The Love of Dogs_ ’ that he had watched a few years ago. In it Paul O’Grady visits Battersea Dogs & Cats Home and the show follows different dogs each episode. 

Edith was immediately hooked. 

“Can we go there after Christmas?” She had asked early on, eyes full of tears when she had realised that there is more than one animal shelter in the world. 

Mycroft and Greg had agreed, Mycroft stating that he would organise a special visit the following week. 

Greg stretches beside him, “So how about a Christmas film before bed you two?” 

Louis smiles, amused. “If there’s your special hot chocolate going, definitely.” 

Mycroft chuckles, “Gregory is incredibly talented with his hot chocolate creation.” 

Greg snorts, kissing him on the cheek. Mycroft feels the warmth spread through him. 

“What movie?” Greg asks, leaving the choice to Edith and Louis. 

There was a small pile of Christmas themed DVDs on the floor beside the tree. Edith grabs Louis’s hand to come look through them with her. 

“Right so.” Greg announces, moving to get up. “Hot chocolates all around for my lovelies?” 

“Please!” Louis pipes up. 

Edith nods enthusiastically. Greg looks to Mycroft and Mycroft can feel a blush warming his cheeks, nodding once. 

“Then come help me, love.” Greg holds his hand out for Mycroft, who takes it without a thought. 

In the kitchen, Mycroft goes to fetch their mugs as Greg boils the kettles. 

“I have a good feeling about this year.” Greg says, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

Mycroft raises an eyebrow, “Specifically about us attempting to assemble a trampoline later on?” 

Greg’s sudden laughter makes Mycroft smile effortlessly. “Thanks for reminding me about that, heaven help us.” 

_The Polar Express_ is over and Louis and Edith have been instructed to go brush their teeth as Mycroft and Greg clean up. 

“Anthea said she’d be here in about an hour.” 

Greg nods, “Missus should be well asleep by then.” 

“Papa! Daddy!” Edith calls from the top of the stairs, they both go to put her to bed. 

Edith hugs Louis goodnight as Louis pretends to go to his room to sleep, he’ll be back down later and on watch duty as they go outside and assemble the trampoline. 

“What time will Santa be here at?” Edith asks, far too awake for sleep. 

Mycroft and Greg sit by her bed, Greg taking out a book of Christmas themed bedtime stories. 

“We don’t know. Perhaps after midnight.” 

Edith looks to Greg, “And you’re sure the fire won’t burn him?” 

Greg stifles a laugh. “Of course love, he’s magic.” 

“Will I hear him?” 

It’s Mycroft’s turn now, “Most likely not, my darling. Maybe the bells of his sleigh, but you’ll be well asleep by then, won’t you?” 

She nods, “Will he not come if I’m awake?” There’s a little fear in her eyes. 

“He certainly will, my darling. But it’s better if you sleep.” Mycroft says reassuringly. 

“And I come into you before I go downstairs?” 

“Yes, darlin’. Please do.” Greg murmurs, “Now, you ready for your story?” 

Edith nods, holding out her arms for goodnight hugs. 

It’s Greg’s turn to read tonight, and Mycroft sits beside him, content to listen to his husband’s voice as he tells the story of a fairy that lives atop a Christmas tree. 

By the time Edith is asleep and they make their way downstairs, Louis and Anthea are having an animated conversation about Doctor Who and their favourite Doctor. 

Anthea smiles at them both, rising from the sofa to hug Mycroft and Greg. 

“It’s been too long.” Greg says apologetically. 

Mycroft watches Anthea brush it off with a calm, “We’ve all been busy. I am learning how to run a government after all.” Which resulted in a bout of laughter. 

There was now a pile of presents under the tree and Mycroft was beyond grateful that they had all been wrapped so that Louis would not be able to see their contents. 

“The trampoline is in its box in the hallway.” Anthea gestures at the door. 

Mycroft bites his lip, putting up a trampoline after ten o’clock at night in the cold and damp? 

Anthea narrows her eyes, “You did get one with the protective netting around it?” 

Mycroft looks to Greg who nods, “Of course we did, ‘Thea. We’re not savages.” 

Anthea smiles approvingly. “So, you two going to try assemble it?” 

“Better now than never.” Mycroft murmurs. 

Anthea, clearly trying not to laugh at his lack of enthusiasm along with Greg’s obvious anxiety sits back down beside Louis. “We’ll listen out for the little one. I’ll give you both half an hour before I come to your rescue.” 

Mycroft can’t help but chuckle, “I’m sure we’re both more than capable.”

Anthea glances between him and Greg, gifts them with a doubtful look, raises a brow and chooses to turn to Louis, “We’ll time you. Also, Louis and I are preoccupied.”

Louis laughs, “We’ve been arguing about the Eleventh Doctor.” 

“And so we shall continue, young man.” Anthea says mock-severely. 

Mycroft rolls his eyes at Greg, glancing back at Anthea and Louis fondly. 

Once they’ve got their coats, gloves and scarves on, they turn on the backyard light and manage to get the trampoline outside. 

While the outside lamp gives them some light, it’s still a challenge to see everything. 

“Surely it can’t be too difficult?” Mycroft asks as they lay out all the components on the grass, staring at them in dread. 

When Greg laughs, Mycroft can see the cold ghost of his breath. “I think both of us combined have pretty decent skills and past experiences. Sure, you’ve probably diffused a bomb at some stage.” 

Mycroft fixes Greg with a glare, “Are you honestly comparing a child’s trampoline to a bomb?” 

Greg snorts in response, “Well, let’s see what we say in twenty minutes, yeah?” 

“Only twenty minutes?” 

“Look, Myc. Anthea will be out in thirty minutes and put us to absolute shame if we can’t finish this.” Greg bends down, opening the instruction booklet out on the grass. 

Mycroft grimaces, “I believe she would never let either of us forget it.” 

“Right so, grab the screwdriver, love. We can do this.” 

“So who’s going to test it?” Anthea’s voice startles them both, they hadn’t heard the back door open. 

Mycroft makes sure that the netting is secure and steps back to Greg’s side. 

“I am one of the John Lewis foxes.” Mycroft says primly. 

Laughter erupts from Greg at his side. “Christ, Myc. I adore you.” 

Mycroft leans in to gift Greg with a chaste kiss on the cheek. 

Anthea’s smiling easily, Mycroft could even describe her expression as proud. 

“Louis bargained with me to give you both forty minutes, so here I am, and I am impressed.” 

“Does it pass the test?” Greg asks in amusement. 

Anthea hums, crossing her arms across her chest. “We won’t know that until one of you try it.” She pauses, “To test the structural integrity of course.” 

“And certainly not to see your boss or his husband humiliate themselves on a trampoline?” 

Anthea acts insulted, “How dare you.” 

Greg bumps into Mycroft’s side, “Yeah, ‘Thea, I think I’m sensing an ulterior motive here. I mean I may be retired, but my detective’s intuition is still there.” 

Mock indignation crosses her face, “You act as though I was going to record you and use it later as ammunition.” 

Mycroft can’t help but laugh, her eyes are shining with amusement as she watches them. 

“I suppose one of us may try it.” Greg says with a sigh. 

“I have never been on a trampoline in my life and I certainly don’t intend to start now.” Mycroft pointedly ignores Greg’s pleading glance. 

“Darlin’, Edith will probably want us to try it with her.” 

Mycroft’s eyes widen in terror, “Oh no.” 

“Greg’s right.” Anthea grins, “So which of you are going first?” 

Mycroft stays silent and shakes his head when Greg takes his hand. “Together?” 

Anthea’s chorus of ‘aww’ from behind them makes Mycroft roll his eyes. “If we both end up in A&E, I will never forgive you.” 

Anthea shrugs nonchalantly, “Shoes off, lads.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Myc, socked feet only.” Anthea sounds like she’s explaining something to a three year old and Mycroft’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. 

Greg kisses his cheek and lets go of his hand to take off his shoes. “We’ll have a nice warm bath afterwards, love.” 

Mycroft shivers in disgust as his socked feet get damp in the cold, wet grass. 

“Absolutely priceless.” He hears Anthea murmur from behind them. 

Mycroft glares at her, “Your job is at risk, young lady.” 

She snorts, “You need me to much to fire me, we both know that. Now up with you.” 

Greg, who is kneeling on the trampoline holds his hand out to help Mycroft up. 

“C’mon love.” Greg smiles reassuringly, “Sooner it’s over we can leave. If it holds up for us two, it’ll hold up for Edith.” 

Mycroft sighs a sigh of the heavily burdened. “The sacrifices one must make for their children.” 

“Father of the year right there, love. Now c’mon. Freezin’ my balls off here, dying for a warm bath.” 

Mycroft takes Greg’s hand and manages to heist himself up to the trampoline. 

Mycroft stares at Greg forlornly as they both kneel on the trampoline. 

“Hasn’t given way yet.” Greg says with pride. 

“A trampoline is commonly used by jumping on it.” Anthea’s singsong voice echoes in the night air. 

Mycroft glances back at her and see she has her phone out. 

“Anthea, you better not be recording this.” 

Anthea looks around herself, then back at them innocently. “Who? Me? Of course not.” 

Mycroft looks to Greg with what could probably be described as an intense despair. 

Greg attempts to smile, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes like normal. “Think of the warm bath.” Greg says stoically. Then too low for Anthea to hear, “Together.” He gives Mycroft a pointed look in order to ensure that Mycroft knows exactly what Greg plans to do. 

Blushing despite himself, feeling the tug of desire in his stomach he nods. 

“Good. Now, take my hand, love.” 

Mycroft does so, with only a little hesitation. 

He hears Anthea make some sort of squeal of amusement behind them. 

Greg pulls them both up to standing, and Mycroft sways dizzily. 

“S’okay, darlin’.” Greg glances back at Anthea and rolls his eyes, “Honestly, you look like a child on Christmas morning.” 

“I never thought I’d see Mycroft on a trampoline, give me a break. This video will make a wonderful birthday present in the years to come.” 

“Oh, Lord.” Mycroft can’t help but whisper. 

Greg takes him off-guard by pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. “Jump on three?” 

Mycroft grinds his teeth together, a deep frown on his face, but he manages to nod. 

He holds on to Greg’s hands tightly, taking some comfort in the solidity of his husband. 

“One...” Greg murmurs, meeting Mycroft’s gaze and smiling reassuringly at him. 

Mycroft bends his knees a fraction. 

“Two...” Greg nods at him, “Three!” 

Mycroft jumps with Greg, and when they bounce back Mycroft nearly falls over, had he not have been holding Greg’s hands he would have. 

Greg’s smile is enormous, dazzling and Mycroft feels his pulse spike. “Again?” 

Mycroft’s frequent reminder that he would do anything for his husband and children kicks in again. Greg looks so thrilled that Mycroft can’t say no, even if he wanted to. 

After a few more jumps, clinging onto each other, they hear Anthea clapping for them. Out of breath, Greg pulls Mycroft into hug, “Bath time, yeah?” His voice is husky in his ear, and Mycroft can’t help but swallow and nod, cheeks burning. 

Once they all return to the house, Mycroft and Greg both get rid of their damp socks. 

“Well, you two have made my Christmas.” Anthea’s still on the verge of laughter. 

Louis comes into the kitchen, looking amused. “Worked out alright then?” 

Anthea nods for all of them, rushing over to Louis with her phone. “Take a look!” 

Mycroft shakes his head in resignation. 

Greg helps Mycroft out of his coat and scarf, delight clear on his face as he hears Louis chuckle as he watches Anthea’s video. 

“Coolest dads award.” Louis says when the video finishes, he looks over at them both, eyes shining with tears of laughter. “Please send it to me, I want to remember this.” He says to Anthea, who’s busy grinning at Mycroft and Greg after hearing Louis call them dads. 

Greg squeezes Mycroft’s hand in excitement and Mycroft almost wants to give Louis his real present at this second. 

Louis seems to notice both Anthea’s excitement and Mycroft and Greg’s expressions of happiness, and blushes as a result. 

“They’ll have to remember that because they’re never going to be called cool anytime soon.” Anthea says easily diffusing any awkward tension that had emerged between them and Louis laughs in relief. 

“Anyway.” Anthea says, bumping into Louis’s shoulder, “Bedtime for you or Santa won’t come.” 

Louis rolls his eyes, “Right, sure.” 

“Thanks for listening out for Edith, we really appreciate it.” Greg says, going over to give him a hug. “Edith will probably wake you in the morning, I’ve told her to come into us before she goes downstairs. Is it alright if we wake you up if she doesn’t so we can all go down as a family?” 

Mycroft notices Louis trying to hide his surprise. “Y-yeah, sure.” He manages, hugging Greg tightly. 

“We shall see you in the morning then, Louis.” Mycroft moves to hug Louis as soon as Greg lets him go. Louis nods, wrapping his arms around Mycroft. 

“Night dads.” Louis says, a quiver in his voice. He turns to Anthea, “Happy Christmas ‘Thea.” 

Anthea grins, ruffling Louis’s hair. “I’ll see you in a day or two. We shall review the Christmas Doctor Who episode then. Merry Christmas, Lou.” 

Louis nods, waving at them as he leaves the room. 

Anthea turns back to them, “Please let me know as soon as possible as to what he says, although I’m pretty certain it’s going to be a yes.” 

Mycroft nods, a happiness settling in his chest, “We will indeed. Merry Christmas, Anthea.” 

She comes over to hug them both, “To you two as well, see you soon, and enjoy your holidays.” 

Once the door closes behind Anthea Greg wraps himself around Mycroft, “Bath and present, I think. What do you say, love?” 

“Very amenable to that order of things.” 

* * *

Over the last few years, Greg has become a deeper sleeper, Mycroft however still wakes at the smallest noise. 

Greg’s comfortable, head resting on Mycroft’s chest when he wakes to Mycroft’s long fingers running through his hair. 

“Gregory.” Mycroft murmurs, and he only starts to wake when Edith screams as she jumps into the bed with them. 

“Santa!!!” She shouts and Greg wakes to see Edith grinning excitedly at both of them. 

Greg manages to sit up beside Mycroft, pulling Edith in between the two of them. He kisses her forehead with a smile, “Merry Christmas, darlin’.” 

Greg looks to Mycroft, who’s smiling at the both of them, hair in disarray. 

“Merry Christmas, Edith, my darling.” Edith leans into Mycroft and he kisses her forehead. 

“Can we go downstairs?” 

Greg takes a quick look at his alarm clock. 5 AM. Could be worse. 

“Sure, but we need to get Louis and all go down together. ‘Kay?” 

“I’ll get him!” She’s almost at their bedroom door, when there’s a quiet knock. 

Edith opens the door wide and screams Louis’s name. 

Louis looks taken off-guard for a second, until Edith pulls him into a hug. “Happy Christmas!”

“To you too, excited for Santa?” 

“Yeah, aren’t you?” 

Greg can’t help but chuckle as he gets out of bed and goes for his dressing gown as a very tired looking Louis musters excitement about Santa. 

Edith turns to him and Mycroft expectantly, “Can we go now?” 

Mycroft is tying his own dressing gown, a Christmas one to match his pyjamas, and nods. “I suppose we could allow that.” 

Edith drags Louis down the stairs and Greg and Mycroft follow. 

Edith’s mouth drops open at the sight of the presents around the tree. 

“Now, Edith, you only get to open the ones with your name on them.” Greg says, watching Edith approach one of Louis’s presents. 

Edith sighs, “What about the trampoline, did he bring that?” 

“Perhaps, open your other presents first though, my love.” Mycroft sits down on the sofa and Greg sits by his side. 

Louis is still in the doorway, staring at the presents in surprise. 

“Alright, Lou?” Greg asks, smiling reassuringly at him. 

Louis seems to snap out of his daze, nods and approaches his presents. 

Edith squeals in delight as she unwraps a set of Enid Blyton books. “Will you read to me?” She asks, turning towards Mycroft and Greg with a smile on her face. 

“‘Course we will, darlin’. More bedtime stories.” 

Louis opens a present revealing a book on beginner’s coding and he smiles, flicking through it. 

“Can we play this later?” Edith asks, holding up a box of Connect 4 and Mycroft and Greg both laugh, saying that of course they can. 

“Oh my god.” Louis murmurs, opening the present that reveals a laptop. He looks over at them in shock. 

“For coding, of course.” Mycroft says calmly, “I have a colleague that has agreed to give you lessons once a week.” 

Greg looks to Mycroft in surprise, “You’re getting someone from MI6 to teach our son how to code?” 

Mycroft nods, eyes innocent. 

Greg shakes his head, amusement running through him. “As long as you promise not to hack into any foreign governments, right?” 

Louis can’t help but laugh, cheeks red. “Promise.” He pauses, “Thank you.” 

Edith looks between them confused, “Why are you thanking Papa and Daddy for what Santa gave you?” 

They all freeze, but Greg is the one to diffuse the moment. “Your Papa has arranged lessons for Lou. That’s all.” 

Edith nods satisfied, going back to the unwrapped present on her lap. 

Greg hears Mycroft’s exhale in relief, he gently squeezes Mycroft’s thigh, earning himself a tender smile. 

Edith unwraps a jigsaw puzzle of London and she grins excitedly. She looks to Mycroft and Greg, “It’s a big one!” 

Mycroft smiles adoringly at her, “It is. A difficult one too, just as you wished.” 

She nods, placing the puzzle on the floor, “Trampoline?” She asks hopefully. 

Greg chuckles, “Alright darlin’. But we need to wrap you up first, it’s cold out.” 

Louis watches them all, an unwrapped present on his lap. His hands run over the paper, it feels like a book. 

“And perhaps allow Louis to unwrap his last present.” Mycroft says, “It’s only fair.” 

Edith nods, still sitting by the tree, she looks to Louis expectantly. “What is it?” She gestures at the wrapped present. 

Louis chuckles nervously, he’d already gotten too much. It was overwhelming. 

Greg searches for Mycroft’s hand, intertwining their fingers, they share a brief glance, Greg squeezes Mycroft’s hand. Mycroft returns the gesture. 

Louis looks up at Mycroft and Greg briefly, but starting to unwrap the present. 

They all sit in a nervous silence. 

Louis’s hands uncover a leather bound folder. The cover is free of any indication of what it is. 

Louis frowns, slowly opening it. 

Greg and Mycroft hold their breath as Louis’s eyes skim the first page. Mycroft’s grip on Greg’s hand is almost painful. 

Louis looks up to them, face pale with shock. “Is-is this real?” 

“Of course it is.” Mycroft says softly, eyes full of hope. “We would never joke about such a thing.” 

“You want to adopt me.” Louis whispers in amazement. 

Greg feels like his heart could burst. “You’re already our son, Lou. It’d be nice to make it official. No more worries about being sent to another foster family, because you are our family.” 

Louis looks away, wiping away a stray tear with the sleeve of his pyjamas. His fingers brush over the paper in front of him. 

Mycroft and Greg move to get up, to go to him but Louis rises first. He rushes across the small distance between them and engulfs them both in a hug. 

Greg holds him close, his own eyes sting with unshed tears. 

“Please.” Louis’s voice cracks, “I’d love to be a part of this family.” 

“You already are, Louis. Always will be.” Mycroft’s voice shakes and Greg knows instantly that he’s crying and that sets him over the edge completely. 

“We want to give you and Edith everything.” Greg murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “All the love in the world. Because you both mean the world to us.” 

“I love you both.” Louis whispers, “I can’t wait to call you both dad and it’ll be official.”

“Papa?” Edith asks, watching the three of them hug and cry. “What’s wrong?” 

They separate and Greg wipes away his tears. Mycroft clears his throat. “Absolutely nothing. Louis is going to be your brother forever.” 

Edith looks to Louis, frowning in confusion. “But he already is?” 

Louis walks over as she stands up and engulfs her in a hug. “And you’ll always be my sister.” 

Greg can’t help but lean in to kiss Mycroft, feeling Mycroft smile against his lips. 

“Now.” Greg can’t help but grin, “I think this all calls for a family hug, yeah?” 

Mycroft chuckles beside him, eyes shining.

Louis and Edith approach them, and Greg and Mycroft both join them in a hug. 

“Papa, Daddy?” Edith murmurs, “Can I see the trampoline now?” 

Greg can’t help but laugh out loud, joy bubbling in his chest as he releases them from the hug. “Of course, darlin’. Of course.” 

Edith looks up to Louis, “Can you jump with me?” 

Louis’s eyes are full of joy and he can’t seem to stop smiling, “What else is a big brother for?” 

Edith grabs Louis’s hand, “Let’s go!” 

Greg follows their children, hand resting at the base of Mycroft’s back. 

“Coats and scarfs first before we go anywhere!” Greg reminds them, unable to hide his amusement when Edith rolls her eyes, reminding him of his husband completely. 

Greg and Mycroft stand near the trampoline and watch Edith scream as she sees the trampoline. 

Once Louis helps her up onto it, she begins jumping, holding onto Louis’s hand for her first few jumps before going alone. 

“Look at them.” Greg murmurs in contentment, Mycroft snakes his arm around Greg’s waist. 

“Hmm.” He hums, “Our little family.” 

“Perfection.” 

“It is indeed. I love you, Gregory. I’m proud to be a father with you by my side.” 

Greg leans in and pulls Mycroft into a gentle kiss. “Always, love. Always.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3
> 
> The John Lewis advert Mycroft referenced can be watched here: [[x]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4qo27xcVS5I)
> 
> Title comes from the gorgeous 'Love Is Christmas', by Sara Bareilles which can be listened to here: [[x]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQdLF1QP_-A)
> 
> tumblr: @lostallsenseofcontrol  
> twitter: @lostallsenseof1


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